Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Stating the Obvious: It's the Littlest Things In Life That Make the Largest Difference. Every Once In A While....

I made it to my office yesterday by 8:30 a.m. and quickly bulldozed through helping Ellen with the POW! Anthology of student writing, class preparation, a slurry of emails, and final touches on a site profile report...

...yes, one of those days when I don't take the time to look up...

...but I did. I asked the university to provide a monitor to attach to my upgraded laptop (which, as an upgrade, is four inches smaller and difficult to read). I'm getting used to using two screens, but I'm loving it, especially as the wider screen randomly selects photos from my lap top to display. It's like my own personal museum.

And when I looked up, I saw a picture of Abdi and his little sister at his high school graduation. I also saw the award given to me by my alma mater and a photograph from the first Writing Our Lives conference that I loved helping to create. I had this strange moment where everything in my life made sense - the chaos, the hard work, the constant quest for answers, the inability to get to 1/4th of them, and the schedule I keep.

Seeing Abdi and his little sister in this photograph on the screen before a wall I painted Orange (yes, Go Cuse!), I felt centered.

Everything has been evolving at exactly the right time. I've tried to slow down to enjoy the journey, but the pace I keep rushes me forward.

This quick moment made my day. The screensaver changed, of course, but I had a glimpse where everything made a tremendous amount of sense.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

That Moment When You Know You've Been Duped, But Must Go Along For The Ride and Suck It Up. Yep.

The plan was to meet Pam at Burlington's and then do Christmas Tree shop, then return home to run and prep for classes. I should have known when I walked into Burlington's and saw Sharon...and then Kaitlyn...and then Shirley...that I was tricked. They had an estrogen excursion pre-planned and wanted me in their menopausal shopping musical.

That's unfair.

Kaitlyn was cranky like me, too. "I was promised lunch," she confessed. And we got h-angry , but our whining didn't matter. They had shoes to buy, hats to try on, and every corner of every rack to rummage through.

Hand to head. Actually, I took a footpath to the sock table. I can always find 5 pairs of socks for $10. And I did. They had monster robot socks which were cool. Grrrrrwwwwwllllll beep beep.

Lucky for me, too, they said we could get food. We went to Over the Border and I knew I was in for it. Two beers and chips for lunch didn't compensate well with the healthy vegetables and grilled chicken I ordered (and because it was a bad day, I decided to make apple crisp, too - it's been a loooong time since I splurged like that).

The Christmas Tree shop wasn't as horrendous as I expected because the place has moved beyond cheap and tacky, to utterly junky, so we only spent a short time there...just long enough for me to find my wandering eye (which I left in the store for someone else to buy). Actually, I am now thinking that if I bought two eyes, and made a pair of glasses with them, that it might be a really cool costume for Halloween. Whoops, too late.

And I shouldn't be so harsh on the ladies. They were tame and helped distract me from my typical work-a-holic tendencies (although they admitted they usually trick Leo into their outings). After all, I did finish a book chapter before I met up with them, and returned home to work on other projects. I also got tomorrow's classes in gear, too.
This will help Ellen and me to have time during the day tomorrow to finish collaborative work we've been doing.

I've said it once and I will say it again, "Every weekend should allow for a three-day weekend. It makes all the difference in the world."

Monday, October 13, 2014

This is a Shout Out and a Reflection of my Syracuse Friend, Kathy. She's on her way...final stretch for her now.

Kathy Cullen and Kristin Munger, Doctoral Support
My dear friend Kathy (left), began the Syracuse University Ph.D. process with me in 2007. She left years as an administrator and I left years as a teacher. Throughout our coursework, we commiserated together. We had different tracks, but many of the same interests and I think about her wisdom as gifted, together, grounded, and in control. When I think about my own ramming (that is, head down and finishing the dang dissertation), I think about where she is right now.

She's almost there and I am so proud of her.

A few weeks ago, she sent me a copy of her dissertation to look over the first three chapters - that was my assignment. It took Columbus Day, however, to have enough freedom in my schedule to read her important work on Critical Race Theory and Literacy Development in Pre-Service Teacher Preparation. That's not her title, but it is the one I'm borrowing for this post.

I know, for Kathy, that a lot of the dissertation process is a personal quest to prove to one's self that they can actually get through it all. The hurdles thrown at her since we finished coursework have been many, but after reading her work last night I recognized that she is very close to done. It's not easy to write a 200 page document from 1,000 pages of collected field notes. Ah, but she's done it and she's almost to her defense.

I am unsure if anyone can understand the experience of writing a dissertation unless they've tried it. I also know that the doctoral work is only a hint at the chaotic complexity and workload yet to come. Still, I'm very excited for Kathy as she begins to see light at the end of the title.

The saying is that in fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue (politically complicated phrase, I know). So, on this Monday, I am thinking, "Yeah, there's always that fourteen hundred and ninety-two, but Cullen is about to cross the threshold, too".

Here's to what lies ahead.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Contemplating Empty Space and Open Horizons When Suddenly Time Gives You A Location To Be Free

Bryan's Saturday Night
Busy. That is a Crandall norm. I'm so busy, that I rarely have time to think about how busy I actually am.

I have my routines, and the lists I create are enormous, but sometimes I am able to cross items off.

And that is why my Saturday threw me upside down on the roller coaster of life. I chiseled out a 14 hour marathon to finish two reporting projects, and aimed to free myself for an evening dinner - should the opportunity present itself.

Well, the dinner was canceled because others were brought down by their own frantic life. So, my Saturday night looked like this photo. I watched the U of L game, and the inability to pull it together for the win again Clemson, and then I talked with several friends on the phone, including my little sister who I haven't talked with in weeks.

I even drank a beer. It's been a while since I've had one of those.

Now I am wondering why my life has to be so busy. I wish I had hobbies and interests beyond work, so I could flee the 9 to 5 (okay, 7 a.m. - 10 p.m.) on the weekends to do what I want to do. But, truth is, I usually have to work.

It's Columbus Day...that's why I see space and horizons in this post. I could take Saturday off because I knew I have today and tomorrow. Having such freedom, however, is mischievous, because I start thinking about what else I want to do. Had I been out in the retail world, I probably would have spent a fortune -- my brain was that open for the emancipated evening to let be, what would be.

Instead, I simply chilled on the couch...watched college football...drank a beer, and talked with others. That is not a usual use of time for me. I will chalk it up as an achievement.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Looking For Ways to Use @EmmanuelJal 's 5th Album, The Key, To UnlockDoors for Relocated Youth

My autographed copy of Emmanuel Jal's latest album arrived in the mail on Wednesday, but I didn't have time to listen to it until the last couple of days when I spent a lot of time in Connecticut traffic. Like any album, it takes listening to it several times before I realize what it brings, holistically, to the universe and the world I live. In the first go-around, I knew instantly that I wanted to share it with several young men I work  with who arrived to the U.S. from Sudan, Congo, Liberia, Somalia, Eritrea, Tanzania, and Sierra Leone. Jal's music brings voice to a youth population that is too often overlooked in the U.S. His lyrics offer a much needed perspective about what it means to be uprooted from civil conflict in African nations and learning to get by in the challenging environments of living in U.S. poverty.

Jal's message of peace and sojourning resonates throughout the 12 tracks of The Key and was released in conjunction with his acting debut in The Good Lie. I met the artist while he was filming with Reese Witherspoon and gave him a copy of Trina Paula's Hope For the Flowers. He gave me a copy of War Child, his memoir, and I've shared it with high school students, undergraduates, and graduate students.

In summary, the soul of Emmanuel Jal is thick and heavy, yet it is also very light. I only talked with him once, but in that short time I recognized the depth of his experiences because they paralleled so many of the stories I've learned from my work in refugee communities. Jal brings hope to a complicated world, especially as it is experiences the darkness that some human beings bring onto their fellow mankind.

Several lyrics resonated with what I've learned from working with refugee populations. In The Key, Jal sings,
Now on no sole [person] shall take me for a fool.                                                                   
Kuodah roda entaah (I'm pushing myself) sharpening up my tools.                                     
It's never too late to try to go to school.                                                                                 
Education to me is me Mother and Father.                                                                            
Words inside these books speaks to me,                                                                                 
When I read I get lost into another world.                                                                            
And I find things that calm me and soothe my soul.                                                        
The essence of all of it is like priceless gold.                                        
[Chorus]
Ooh Waguar, hmmm, Bah lah dictor, hmmm  
[I'm going to learn how to read and write, I will be a doctor]                                                                                                                
Bah lah Scientist hmmmm Teach or a Professor hmmmm
The song speaks to any young man or woman brought to the U.S. and who seeks direction. It reminded me of scholarship t-shirts we made in Kentucky to raise money to send several to college - Again, "Education is our mother and father." Jal raps positively about the need for drive, direction, sharing one's story, and taking interest in the world. This is a message worth singing about.

The album blends Sudanese roots, survival of tragic warfare in Sudan, musical fortunes, and a delivery of optimism for the next generation. His inclusion of the the African Children's Choir from Uganda brought greater depth to many tracks.

As Jal's acknowledgements describe, his 'Mum Angelina Nyakong' planted many seeds of positivity in him. For this, we all should be thankful. Emmanuel Jal is making music for many, most of whom he'll never meet or know. Still, the contribution of this album makes the mentoring I do for young men and women who relocated to the United States a little easier. We now have Emmanuel Jal's music and book to discuss. And I'm waiting for The Good Lie to finally be released in Connecticut, so that can be added to the repertoire.

I hope to one day meet the artist again. He has provided the world with The Key. Now, it must be used to open new doors.
  
      

Friday, October 10, 2014

Sealing the Envelope and Placing the Stamp - You Just Never Know When A Life Lesson Will Occur

I had the honor of being asked to Central Middle School in Greenwich yesterday in celebration of their reading of Outcasts United by Warren St. John - a book adapted to middle school readers. The text, both the advanced and youth versions, was selected as an Everyone Reads book for 2014. As a result, I am doing presentations at various schools. It was rather serendipitous that the work I've done since 2001 led me to this particular text and that Connecticut schools are teaching the stories of relocated refugees.

Yesterday, however, I brought Chitunga Chisenga with me so he could share his story of relocating from the Congo to the United States when he was in 5th grade. He quickly became a hero to the young men and women and they were anxious to learn about his experiences, especially as a student in the United States.

On a map, Greenwich is only 32 miles away. On I-95 traffic, however, that means 2 and a 1/2 hours stuck in traffic. The two of us didn't think we'd ever get there and the stagnating steal and exhaust was, well, exhausting. We made it, however, and the conversations hosted over three periods was very successful. All of us in attendance learned.

After we left, Chitunga informed me of his daily plans which included an interview at 2 that I drove him to, but also the mailing of his college applications. Granted, he was already accepted in many and he studies late into the night so he has opportunities to get into more, but he delayed his first year because of circumstances out of his control. He told me we needed to go to the post office, so I stopped.

When we arrived I asked him, "What do you need to mail?" He showed me the recommendations I printed out for him and other forms. I asked, "Why didn't you tell me at home? I have envelopes and stamps?" He says, "I've never had to mail anything a day in my life."

He wondered where he was supposed to put the college address. This was an easy lesson. The more humorous lesson, though, was when he asked, "How do I seal the envelope?" I told him, you need to lick the film so it sticks.

He looked at me like I was crazy, but then acted with a serious face and concentrated on putting saliva to the paper. He sealed his mail on his own.

I am leaving today thinking about how much of a hero Chitunga was to the American middle schoolers and what a tremendous impact he's had on my life and those of my friends and colleagues. But then the simple act of mailing an application reminded me of all the cultural intricacies we take for advantage (and makes me wonder what the heck our schools are doing?).

I'll rap the day up, though, as a win/win all the way around. It truly does feel good to work with young people on global issues and to advocate for the lives of first-generation Americans and what they desire for themselves.



Thursday, October 9, 2014

God Only Knows What I'd Be Without Them - The Class of 2001 and the Beach Boys Remake

On my way to work yesterday, I heard that the BBC sponsored a remake of "God Only Knows What I'd Be Without You." When I got home, Meredith Alexander, Class of 2001, sent it to me and asked, "Are you thinking of us?"

I didn't break down in tears, although I did tear up.

The Class of 2001 were my first freshmen class and I taught them during their sophomore, junior, and senior year. It was also my first four years of teaching, so they educated me as much as I educated them, I suppose. Four years is a long time to travel with the same cohort of kids - especially as you experience adolescents through them, see them get into college, and now watch them getting married, having children, and moving on with their lives. It's something.

Either way, this Beach Boys song was one of the songs on the class musical compilation and the remake brings back multiple memories - too many for this time. I write this morning, however, knowing that this rendition, like the original, has a special place in my universe. I remember saying to them, "There will be a day where all of this high school stuff will make more sense." I also told them there would be a time when they were my age. Ha, that crew passed that age a few years ago!

God Only Knows What I'd Be Without Them.